


Dead Man's Grin

by Saral_Hylor



Series: 25 Seconds 'verse [1]
Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Post Bolivia, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:11:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saral_Hylor/pseuds/Saral_Hylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"They were dead. For all intents and purposes they had died in that helicopter crash along with twenty-five innocent children. And it was surprisingly true, for most part." </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Man's Grin

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song 25 Seconds by Mandy Kane.
> 
> Just something that came to me after hearing the lyrics _"I'll meet you at the gates of heaven, but the bouncers won't let me in, they say I've got no credentials, except a dead man's grin"_
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely quandong_crumble. (I'm really going to have to come up with more adjectives if I keep posting stories)

They were dead. For all intents and purposes they had died in that helicopter crash along with twenty-five innocent children. And it was surprisingly true, for most part.

Clay, a man who had forgotten how to be anything but a soldier, had lost himself to drink and the fights; driven only by the need for revenge on the voice on the radio.

Roque followed him, because he always had, though growing more reluctant, more tired, more pissed off, and more determined to just get home.

Pooch buried himself in whatever mechanical work he could find, so he wouldn’t have to think about Jolene, and how she was carrying his child believing that he was dead. It was cruel, to let her believe that, but it was too dangerous to get in contact with her. Instead, he’d spend nights watching and re-watching his beautiful wife through whatever security camera footage Jensen had been able to scrape together.

Cougar grew even more quiet than usual; of all of them, he was the worst affected. He’d talked to all those children, carried one little girl the whole walk there. He shut down, closing himself off from the rest of the team however he could, taking up mundane work at the doll factory, because those absurd plastic parodies of girls did not remind him of the twenty five precious lives that had been lost, or the families that had been left behind. He went to bars at night, drank and usually ended up falling into bed with some beautiful woman.

Jensen smiled too much, talked more than ever, trying to fill the silence and drown out the memory of the sound of the crash. The chatter on the radio, the whistle of the missile, the screech of metal on metal at the initial impact, the roar of the flames, the ceaseless ringing in his ears that filled the void of the aftermath. He scoured the internet for any information on Max for Clay. He looked into alternate ways to get them home, new identities, forged passports, for Roque. He hacked security footage from all the places Jolene frequented for Pooch. He followed Cougar to work and to the bar, and waited up for him to come back to the room they shared at night, usually smelling of sweat and sex. And he kept tabs on the Petunias’ games, hacked Beth’s school records to see how she was going, and made sure no one was getting anywhere near his family.

The grin was always there, tighter and more forced than before. Cougar knew that it was the grin of a dead man, but it was more than the rest of them could manage. They were almost always together, the sniper doing his best to forget the bad times, the hacker doing his best to remember the good. Jensen would smile too hard, talk too erratically, and stand too close, but it was better than being alone; it was company that Cougar knew he could rely on, no matter what. It was everything he needed, everything he didn’t have to ask for, and it made life in the aftermath bearable.

That dead man’s grin greeted Cougar when he woke up in the morning, when he looked over in the doll factory, when he came home at night. It was a reminder than they were still alive. There were other reminders too; the bright obnoxious shirts, the constant noise, whether Jensen was talking, humming, singing or simple tapping away at his laptop.

Sometimes those reminders weren’t enough, and when Cougar need more substantial proof, he’d touch the hacker, the casual bump of arms, the accidental knock of their hands as they worked together. If he woke up during the night, he’d check to make sure Jensen was still breathing, letting his fingers rest on the pulse point beneath his jaw, just for confirmation that they really were alive. The hacker would wake up at the lightest touch, and when he smiled, it wasn’t that forced fake grin of a dead man but a genuine Jensen smile. He’d shift over on his bed, making room for the sniper; they never spoke, they didn’t need to, Cougar would just crawl into the bed and Jensen would wrap an arm around his chest and nuzzle into the back of his neck, falling asleep again almost instantly. Cougar would lay awake, just feeling the hacker’s skin against his, his breath against his neck. He’d imagine he could feel Jensen’s heartbeat echo against his spine, and it was proof enough.


End file.
